


All I Want is Everything

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A little bit of face fucking, American AU, Blow Jobs, First Time, Getting Together, Harry in a Crop Top, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Summer Love, goofy boys, new england aquarium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: As first dates go, it's a good one.





	All I Want is Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twopoppies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopoppies/gifts).



> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Hope". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_hope/works), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works) or find the master post for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/175608230403/wordplay-2018-every-week-a-prompt-is-chosen-using).
> 
> This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please don’t break the 4th wall or post anywhere else! I am not authorizing any translations at this time, thank you for your understanding.
> 
> As always, the words, as well as the errors, are mine.

Louis sighs, takes a deep breath and wipes the sweat from his brow. Working in the open air gift shop at the Boston Aquarium for the summer wasn’t _entirely_ his dream, but it pays well, the people watching is fantastic, and he gets to spend the summer living rent-free with Niall and Liam at Niall’s mom’s enormous apartment in the North End. He can literally walk to work, which is helpful, given the amount of pasta he’s already consumed this summer, and they’re only three weeks in. He has no idea how Niall’s extremely Irish family ended up in this neighborhood, but he gives thanks for it, often.

“Louis,” calls Marta, Louis’s earnest boss, “Can you pull?”

Louis can’t help the snort that escapes him. “I’m sorry, can I what now?” he asks carefully.

Marta rolls her eyes at him. “I’ve got a list from Corporate, they’re updating the merch. We’ve got a big shipment coming in next week, so they sent over the list of items that don’t sell. Stuff they want pulled from the shelves. Not… whatever thing your mind just did.”

She holds up a page covered with stock numbers that are, thankfully, sorted by category, and Louis nods. “Yeah, I can get going on this.”

“Feel free to grab anything you might want,” Marta says as Louis heads towards the back, “It’s all getting written off.”

If it’s hot out here in the front, it’s going to be deadly going back and forth to the storeroom, but not only is Marta his boss, and a really excellent boss at that, she and Louis have had multiple conversations about how badly laid-out the store is for someone in a wheelchair, and this particular task will be easier for Louis than for her. They’ve got plans, the two of them, to completely reorganize the whole space, they just have to get the final say-so from Corporate. In the meantime, he grabs the paper and gets to work.

As he begins, he looks over across the plaza to the ticket booth, and the roped lines, where he sees Niall chatting away with Harry, as they’re both on ticket-taking duty this morning. Louis sighs again as he watches them, but this time it’s not a sigh of heat prostration. It's something else entirely.

Harry. Harry Styles. Harry Edward Styles. Louis had met him three weeks, two days and… he checks the clock, 97 minutes ago, at the New Employee Orientation, and Louis is smitten, just completely done for, and has been from the moment Harry tripped over his own feet and spilled ice water right onto Louis’s crotch. While Harry had been mortified, Louis has to admit that ice water was probably not the worst thing that could have landed on his nether regions. The shock of the cold had staved off an embarrassing boner incident when Harry had tried to wipe him down while apologizing profusely.

In any case, they’ve been fast friends ever since. Harry is living with approximately seventy-two roommates in a one-bedroom apartment not far from Niall’s, and Louis has already started laying the groundwork to invite Harry to come live with them. Lord knows, there’s plenty of room, and Harry is, well, he’s something else. As Niall and Harry already know each other from before the summer (which is unsurprising to Louis as Niall seems to know everyone), Louis is pretty sure Niall will be cool with it.

Harry is smart, kind, goofy in a wonderfully uninhibited way, obsessed with conservation, and _hot as fuck,_ if Louis’s being honest. He’s got short hair that fluffs up in the humidity, an incredible body that Louis’s jerked off to more than once, and and the most beautiful bottle-green eyes hidden behind his hipster glasses.

As if summoned by a beacon, Harry looks up and his eyes meet Louis’s. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of Louis’s lungs as Harry grins and waves, squinting into the sun. Louis can’t tell if Harry has _the look_ that Louis has surprised on his face a time or two. It’s a soft look, a sweet look, gentle and hopeful, and Louis thinks it _could_ mean, _might_ mean the same things he feels thrumming through his veins. _This could be more. This could be good. This could be everything._

Can you fall in love in three weeks? Prior to this summer, Louis would have said no, but now he’s not so sure.

The only problem is, they haven’t gotten to spend any real time alone together. Either they’re working, or they’ve got roommates with them. Louis is hoping to change that soon.

Because he has no filter and even worse boundaries, he’s been whining to Niall for days now about how pretty Harry is, and Niall had finally rolled over last night and said “Get the fuck out of my room and go ask that boy out,” and when Louis had very reasonably pointed out that it was 1:00 in the morning, and that Harry was probably sleeping, Niall had given an incoherent cry of rage and dumped a cup of water on Louis.

Today is the day. It’s going to happen.

Louis spends the next two hours hauling things off the shelves and onto the racks back into the storeroom. He’s pretty amused by the items Corporate had somehow thought were a good idea to try and market to the public. There’s a hat with an anatomically-correct whale’s heart sculpted out of foam on the top, a mug with a picture of small fish and the words “If you think of a better fish pun… let minnow”, and a t-shirt with a picture of a giant clam on it that looks just like a dick. Not that Louis has anything against a good dick joke, but this is a family establishment. He laughs at the crop top with a cartoon killer whale and the caption “I’m so orca-ward,” and eyes the mug for Harry, who has repeatedly demonstrated his love of puns, good or bad, Harry doesn’t discriminate, Louis thinks affectionately. Harry loves them all equally.

Louis deposits the orca crop tops on the clothing rack, wipes his sweaty hands on his khakis and calls out to Marta, “Hey, boss, I’m going to take lunch, okay?”

He and Niall had met up with Zayn and Harry for the walk into work that morning, and they’d all agreed to meet for lunch at the Clover food truck at noon. He and Harry both love the rosemary fries, and Louis is hungry.

He hears Marta call out something that sounds vaguely affirmative, and makes his way out to the plaza, where he sees the others waiting.

“Louis,” says Harry, sounding delighted, and Louis grins.

To be fair, Harry had sounded just as delighted when he’d met a small Pomeranian in a sweater vest on the walk to work that morning, and when he’d seen some robin fledglings in a nest last week. He’d cried when one of the otters had had twins the first week they’d all been working. Harry feels things deeply, Louis knows. He’s just hoping to be one of the things Harry feels deeply about, that’s all.

“Hello, boys,” he says cheerfully. “Hot enough for you?”

Niall rolls his eyes and Zayn just heaves a sigh of the deeply misunderstood and long-suffering, as if the weather is personally persecuting him. As their little group walks away from the Aquarium, Harry falls into step with Louis, and Louis slows his pace just a bit, just enough to let Niall and Zayn pull ahead of them.

Heart in his throat, he says quietly, “Harry. Hey, Harry?”

Harry looks over and his smile widens. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Louis’s voice sounds a bit strangled and he coughs and tries again. “I was wondering if you might want to do something after work?”

“Sure,” Harry says easily, but then Louis’s heart drops. “Niall was talking about maybe heading over to TTs to see some band.”

“No,” Louis says, and he’s so anxious, he thinks he might faint. “I meant. Just you and me. Doing something together.”

Harry’s eyes get very wide behind his glasses and then he says cautiously, “Like, as friends? Doing something?”

 _Here goes,_ Louis thinks and pulls all of his courage together at once. “I mean, yeah, like friends, if you want. Or like. A date. You and me. Doing a thing. As a date.”

“A date,” Harry whispers, and there it is, that look of total delight at that seems to emanate from his very pores, “A date? With me?”

Louis can’t help the snort he makes. “Uh, yeah, Harry. Haven’t you noticed?” He runs a hand self-consciously through his hair as Harry stares at him. “I’ve been kind of gone for you, basically since we met.”

Harry shuffles and Louis can’t help the small glow he feels at Harry’s awkwardness as Harry shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I guess I kind of got that vibe, but wasn’t sure if it was just because I was hoping it was there, you know?”

He smiles and Louis is helpless to do anything but smile back.

“So,” Harry says briskly, suddenly all business as they pick the pace back up to get food, “What were you thinking?”

Louis, who really hadn’t gotten beyond the _holy shit I’m gonna ask him out_ phase of planning in his mind, panics. “I, err. I don’t know. Anything you want to do?”

Harry shrugs. “Well, we could go home after work to shower and change. Then we could meet up at the Rowes Wharf Sea Grille around 7:00 and sit out on the terrace. We could have the raw bar and tapas, along with the Mas Fi Cava Rosato, and then maybe get ice cream or something and wander down along the Harborwalk, and then you could kiss me under the stars because I think it’s going to be clear tonight.”

Louis frowns and Harry’s face falls. “No, no, that sounds amazing, incredible,” Louis hastens to assure him. “I was just a bit surprised. That’s… awfully specific, Styles,” and a very intriguing blush creeps over Harry’s face. “Have you been thinking about this?”

Harry finally laughs and slants a sideways glance at Louis. “Well, it’s possible Niall might have texted me.”

“What?” Louis cries, only mostly joking in his outrage, “He did what?”

Harry pulls out his phone and scrolls through it, handing it over to Louis.

Nialler: Harry. For the love of fucking GOD please put me out of my misery and just fucking ASK HIM OUT.

Harry: No can do, big guy.

Nialler: Whyyyyyyy??????

Harry: You know why.

Nialler: Yeah okay. I just told him he had to ask you out and he said he was going to. I had to dump water on him to get him to shut up. Harry. Please. I beg you. My sleep deprivation begs you. Put the boy out of his misery.

Louis notes the timestamp of 1:15 am and feels a flash of guilt. He also wonders a bit about the exchange but puts those questions aside to grin over at Harry, who grins back.

“Since I couldn’t get back to sleep, I just… you know.” He flushes a bit, looks away. “Planned a bit.”

“Well,” Louis says, losing his head entirely because apparently, Harry likes him back. He grabs Harry’s hand and says “I love your plans and they sound amazing.”

He mentally checks his bank balance and nods to himself, he can even swing this. If this is the date Harry’s been dreaming of since 1:15 this morning, this is the date Louis is going to give him.

After lunch, Louis spends the rest of the day mooning about the gift shop, picking up snow globes and shaking them absentmindedly while he dreams of Harry’s chestnut curls, sweeping the same spot for twenty-seven minutes while his mind replays _and then you could kiss me under the stars because I think it’s going to be clear tonight_ over and over again, until finally Marta gives up and kicks him out fifteen minutes early.

“Go,” she says, her tone equal parts affection and exasperation, “Just get out of here. Go primp for your date and I’ll see you Saturday.”

Louis grabs his things and thanks her effusively and she just waves him off. “I’m not getting any real work out of you anyway, no point in fighting the tide.” Then she pauses and her voice softens. “Hey, I hope you have a great time. Harry’s such a good kid, and you deserve that, Louis, you really do. Now go, go on,” and she makes an emphatic shooing motion, “go make yourself pretty.”

Louis heads back to the apartment and tries to do just that. He’s nervous and excited, butterflies dancing in his stomach as he steps into the shower and borrows Niall’s fancy body wash that smells sweet and spicy, a lot like chai tea. He spends far too long going through his meager wardrobe, finally choosing a pair of fitted, khaki shorts and a whimsical button up shirt. He carefully rolls up the sleeves to expose his forearms and shoves his feet into a pair of tan bucks. He examines himself critically in the mirror and fusses with his hair for a moment and then rolls his eyes.

It’s not like they haven’t been working together for the last few weeks. Harry’s seen him freshly showered and buttoned up to start the workday, and hot and sweaty, stripped down to a beat-up tank at the end, and just about everything in between, including glassy-eyed and green after that ill-timed whale watch the day of the storm. Harry has seemed to enjoy all the different iterations of Louis that he’s seen so far, and, Louis thinks, giving himself one last look in the mirror, at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to work. He gives a nod, grabs his wallet and keys, and heads for the door.

By the time he gets to the restaurant, his excitement has morphed into a clammy anxiety and he’s almost got himself convinced that Harry’s not going to show when there’s a touch to his shoulder and Harry says, “Hey, Lou.”

Louis just about jumps out of his skin and turns, heart in his mouth, and suddenly, just like that, the anxiety is gone, because it’s Harry standing there. Just Harry, who’s clearly put some effort into his hair, his wide mouth stretched into a grin, his green eyes actually shining behind those ridiculous glasses, and Louis can’t believe he was scared of this.

Harry laughs, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Louis shakes his head at his own foolishness and then just looks closer. Harry’s a bit damp around the edges. He’s wearing soft blue seersucker shorts with little octopuses embroidered on them and a fitted polo shirt of deep navy, and boat shoes with the laces tied into little tassels and Louis aches with affection.

Harry’s grin seems to stretch even wider, and he says in delight, “Lou, hey! Look, we match.”

Louis stares at him and Harry laughs, pointing at the pattern on Louis’s shirt. “Lobsters and octopuses. Sea creatures.”

Louis laughs too, the last of his anxiety swept away and reaches out to grab Harry’s hand, who immediately curls his fingers around Louis’s, his hand warm and solid in Louis’s.

“It’s going to be about a half hour until we can get seated,” Louis says, “Do you want to get a drink at the bar?”

The evening feels magical. It’s warm and a bit humid, and as Harry had predicted, it’s clear. Conversation flows easily between them as it always has, and more than once, they end up laughing so hard they attract attention, though Louis hardly notices. His eyes are fixed on Harry. They talk about work and college. Home and family. Hopes and dreams. Harry describes the year he dressed up as a jelly bean for Halloween and Louis counters with the five years he spent dressed as a tiger.

“No way,” Harry laughs, “five years? Not just for Halloween?”

“Oh no,” Louis shakes his head. “I was committed. My mom had to keep buying me new tiger suits because I kept growing. I loved those things. Niall was laughing at a picture from Thanksgiving when I was five? Six? Something like that. He was like ‘why are you wearing a tiger suit for Thanksgiving?’ and my mom was like, ‘oh, I didn’t even notice.’” He grins. “Something about it, I just felt so safe.”

He doesn’t mention the chaos of his life at that point but Harry’s smile gentles, so affectionate that Louis’s breath catches, and all of a sudden, he thinks maybe Harry gets it somehow.

Harry attempts to get the bill and frowns at Louis when the server says that it’s already been paid, and Louis makes an innocent face.

“Lou, this is.” Harry shakes his head. “I mean, this is amazing, but it’s a lot.”

Louis grins. “I asked you out, remember? And you’d put such thought into it, I just…” his voice trails off and then he says softly, “I wanted to make this lovely for you.”

Their eyes meet and hold and Louis feels full of an emotion he doesn’t want to name quite yet, but he thinks he sees it reflected in Harry’s eyes and then Harry says, “Well, next time, I’m treating,” and Louis exhales and thinks, _here we go._

They wander back out onto the sidewalk, less crowded than it had been earlier.

“What do you think?” Louis says, trying hard not to sound over-eager. “Want to do the Harborwalk?”

Harry gives a small smile as if remembering the same words Louis is, _and then you could kiss me under the stars because I think it’s going to be clear tonight,_ and then his attention is snagged by something over Louis’s shoulders.

“Oh my god, slushies!” he says, sounding excited. “God, I loved those when I was a kid, my mom would almost never get them for me. High fructose corn syrup and food dye.”

He sounds a bit wistful which just won’t do, so Louis says, “Well, let’s get some?” and Harry nods.

They make their choices, root beer for Louis and cherry for Harry, and then, holding Harry’s hand firmly in his own, Louis leads them down the Harborwalk that loops back behind the Harbor Towers and over towards the Aquarium. It’s not the most picturesque walk, for sure, but the Towers block out some of the city sounds, and there aren’t many people around.

“So,” Louis says hesitantly, not wanting to upset Harry, but needing to ask the question that’s been plaguing him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Harry says easily, slurping on his slushie as Louis closes his eyes briefly at the sight of Harry’s cheeks hollowing around the straw, and the way the cherry-red syrup glistens on his lips.

“It’s just, when Niall told you to ask me out? In those texts?”

“Oh,” Harry says softly, “Yeah. I was wondering if you noticed that.”

“I did.” Louis takes a deep breath. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything, of course, but I just. I wondered a bit about that.”

“Has Niall ever told you how we met?”

Louis shakes his head. He knows Niall and Harry have been friends for a while, but because Harry’s up at Dartmouth while Niall and Louis are here in the city at BC, Harry and Louis hadn't met before this summer.

Harry takes a deep breath. “So, last summer was my sophomore summer at Dartmouth, you know? Where you’re required to stay on campus, take classes, and it’s just your class, so it’s mellow. Anyway, Niall was up visiting some friends, and we met on the Green.”

He drops Louis’s hand and stops walking, and they both move to lean on the railing looking out where the waters of the Mystic and the Charles commingle in the main channel that flows out to the harbor.

Harry’s voice is quiet against the backdrop of the noise of the city behind them as he continues. “Basically, I was drunk out of my mind, sitting in the middle of the Green crying because some stupid boy had broken my heart. Niall came up to me to see if I was okay and I puked all over him.”

“Oh no,” Louis groans in sympathy, “I mean, I think we’ve all been there a time or two. I just, I’m still confused as to why you didn’t feel like you could ask me out? I mean, I’m guessing it’s been pretty obvious that I would say yes?”

Harry sighs. “Okay, so this is sort of dumb, I guess. But I’d had this massive crush on this guy, Jeffrey, and I was sort of an idiot around him, you know?”

Louis nods. Yes, yes he does know what it’s like to make an idiot of yourself in front of a pretty boy. Let’s just say that Harry is not his first rodeo in that sense.

“And finally, like I got my courage up and asked him out, and he,” Harry’s voice is small, “He laughed at me, he thought I was joking, and he basically said I had no... fortitude, I guess is the word. Like, I didn’t stick to anything? And all of a sudden it made me realize, I’d just… created this picture in my mind of who I thought he was, and it wasn’t actually who he really was, because he was just mean. Like, it’s fine to say no to someone, but to make fun of them in front of all of your friends?”

Louis takes a chance, reaches out and places his hand on top of Harry’s on the railing. “That sucks,” he says, genuinely meaning it. “I can’t believe he’d do that. I mean, first of all, anyone who turns you down can’t possibly be in his right mind? And second of all, yeah. Don’t be a dick.”

Harry nods and looks over at Louis. “And so, when Niall was like, taking care of me, I made this vow. I know it sounds stupid, but I was like, ‘clearly I don’t make good choices so I’m not going to ask anyone out for a year. I’m just going to take some time for myself.’ Almost like I was going to prove to Jeffrey that I could stick to something.”

“I mean,” Louis says carefully, “You vowed not to ask anyone out for a year to prove to Jeffrey that you could stay the course so he’d… date you?” He removes his hand from Harry’s, feeling a bit foolish.

Harry snorts and grabs Louis’s hand again. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous, and trust me, I don’t care about Jeffrey at all anymore. I just. You know, the year is up really soon and I just wanted to get there? Like for myself, not for him.” He squeezes Louis’s hand and says, sounding nervous and hopeful all at once, “I know it’s dumb, but I sort of wanted to prove it to myself.”

“But,” Louis says, still confused, “I asked you out and you said yes?”

Harry’s thumb brushes across Louis’s wrist and suddenly something between them shifts. Harry traces circles across his palm, his thumb leaving the sensitive nerve endings firing, and Louis shivers. It feels big, this moment. It feels, Louis thinks, a bit dazed, like that moment when you've committed to the dive, body moving through space and all you can do is let go and surrender to the drop. Because you’re already falling.

“I never,” Harry said, his voice gone low and husky, “Vowed not to say yes if someone came along. Someone who’s worth it,” and then his mouth is on Louis’s and it’s electric.

Harry kisses with the same delight he brings to every part of his life, throwing himself into it wholeheartedly, and Louis feels a flash of rage that anyone, anywhere, _ever_ might have made this incandescent boy feel anything less than incredible. He makes his own vow to do whatever it takes to remind Harry of how incredible he is for as long as Harry will let him. He drops his slushie without a second thought to wrap his arms around Harry and holds on as Harry kisses him.

It’s incredible. Louis doesn’t think he’s had a first kiss like this. He’s not sure he’s ever had _any_ kiss like this. Harry’s holding on to him with something close to desperation, kissing him with great determination, and then, as Harry yanks him closer, it happens. Harry groans, long and low, and suddenly Louis’s belly is coated with something wet and sticky.

They both freeze and then Louis pulls back slowly.

“Did you just…” he asks, looking down, and Harry sighs.

“My slushie,” he says mournfully, looking at where both of them are covered in the red, syrupy mess, the remains of the cup still in Harry’s hand.

“Oh my god,” Louis stares at Harry and starts to laugh.

They’re both dripping onto the pavement now, and Louis spares a thought for the red stains that may never come out of Harry’s cheerful striped shorts. Harry snorts and then is laughing too, head thrown back, eyes shut, a full-body laugh that is the best thing Louis’s ever heard.

“C’mon,” he says, grabbing Harry’s hand, “I know where we can get a change of clothes.”

Harry’s laugh dies down to the occasional chortle as they make their way behind the Aquarium and up to the back door of the gift shop. It’s late, and Louis knows the shop is locked up, the steel blinds in the front rolled down, but he has a key, so he lets them into the darkened store. The shutters definitely deter would-be t-shirt thieves, but they’re slatted, which not only lets in light from the outside, but also means lights from the inside will be seen, and Louis really doesn’t want that to happen. He tries to imagine how to explain this whole… situation to security.

“I’m going to leave the lights off,” he tells Harry quietly, there’s something about the dark and hush, city noise muted in the background, that makes it feel like they’ve stepped outside of the timestream for the moment, “I don’t really want security banging on the door.”

They make their way through the storeroom. Louis stops at his cubby to pull out the extra shorts he keeps there and then moves over to the clothing rack he’d filled that morning. He doesn’t look too closely at what he’s grabbing, just pulls a couple of things off and hands them to Harry.

“You can, err,” he says awkwardly, “Use the dressing room if you want.” He opens the door from the storeroom into the main lobby of the store. “It’s brighter in here.” He grabs the package of baby wipes from behind the counter and pulls out a handful to give to Harry. “You can wipe down with these.”

There’s a tension between them, and Louis can almost hear it humming in the air like a live wire as they move further into the store past the sales counter. He looks over and Harry’s eyes are gleaming in the low light that spills in from the plaza outside the door. He reaches out a large hand to grab the hangers from Louis without a word, and make his way into the postage-stamp sized dressing room. Louis resolutely does not watch under the door to see Harry strip off his shoes and shorts and expensive-looking, dark cotton boxer shorts.

Louis strips out of his own dirty clothes, and uses more of the wipes to get rid of the worst of the sticky syrup that’s coating his belly, and then pulls on the loose basketball shorts. It’s a gamble, forgoing underwear, but Louis is a man who won’t say no to a bit of risk here and there.

He hears a sound from the dressing room and quickly turns away as Harry opens the door and says only, “Louis?”

Louis turns and catches his breath. It’s dim in the room, but not so dark that he can’t see. Harry’s short curls are in disarray from pulling the t-shirt over his head, and he’s got his glasses on and a goofy grin on his face as he poses in the doorway, and Louis feels all the blood rush from his brain to his dick, not that there’s even any blood in the brain what with the brain-blood barrier, and _Jesus fucking Christ, Louis, get a fucking grip,_ he hisses at himself, staring open-mouthed at Harry.

The glow from outside dances over Harry and he’s got one arm up, scratching at the back of his neck as if he’s a bit embarrassed. This pulls the cropped top up to expose even more of his flat belly, and holy _hell,_ there are tattoos that Louis can’t quite make out in the dim light, and the other hand is tugging nervously at the hem of the shorts. Apparently, Louis had grabbed dolphin shorts by mistake, and these are… snug. Very snug. They leave almost nothing to the imagination and Louis imagines if the light were better, he’d be able to tell if Harry tucks to the left or the right, though given the tantalizing bulge that Louis sees there, it appears that Harry has utilized the scoop and swoop to fit into those shorts.

It also appears, he notes absently, licking his lips and raising his eyes to meet Harry’s, that Harry is well on his way to hard and all of a sudden, Louis _wants_ so much that his mouth goes dry with it.

“Harry,” he breathes, walking towards him, “Fuck, _Harry,”_ and then Harry surges forward so that they meet somewhere in the middle of the store, and Harry’s mouth is on him and Harry’s hands are on him, and Louis wants to live in this moment forever.

Harry kisses him, enveloping him in the heat and strength of his body, the cotton of the crop top rough against Louis’s bare chest. Louis winds his arms around Harry’s neck and kisses him back, and it’s blazing, incendiary, he’s going up in flames. He doesn’t even realize that Harry’s backed him up to the sales counter until he bumps against it and they pause, gasping.

“What do you want?” Harry gasps, voice hoarse and shaking, as if just this, the kissing and the feel of Louis’s body pressed against his, has pushed him close to his breaking point. “Fuck, Lou, you feel so good.”

Louis lets his hand drift between them and traces his thumb over the hard line of Harry’s cock, and something about the pull of those obscenely small shorts, the bulge under that slick nylon fabric is just too much for Louis, and he drops to his knees, yanking the shorts down as he goes.

There’s almost a tragedy as Harry’s dick gets caught and yanked down with them and Harry yelps, bracing himself on the counter behind Louis.

“Sorry,” Louis says and Harry gasps out a laugh.

“It’s…” he takes an audible breath, “It’s okay. Just surprised me. Fuck, are you sure?”

They make eye contact, and then Louis grins and Harry shudders and Louis says, “It’s perfect, Harry,” and sucks him down.

Louis has to admit, he really loves sucking cock, and Harry’s is a marvel. It’s long and thick, hot and heavy on his tongue as Louis takes a moment to acquaint himself, cursing the low light that won’t let him really see. Louis inhales as he swirls his tongue around the spongy flesh, and Harry moans. Harry smells faintly of soap and salt and the ocean, not to mention traces of cherry slushie, and Louis licks along the length, feeling Harry twitch with the effort of holding still.

As Louis looks up at Harry, he realizes that Harry’s wearing the damn orca top and wonders at how he can be so sexy and dorky all at once. Louis eyes the tattoos across Harry’s exposed belly and realizes that they’re laurel leaves. He thinks darkly with a flash of desire that surprises him, _one of these days, I’m going to come all over those._ Then he reaches up, anchors his hands on the sharp bones of Harry’s narrow hips and starts guiding him in the motion he wants.

“Are you sure,” Harry says, even as he starts to move, thrusting gently into Louis’s mouth, “Fuck, you don’t have to.”

Louis pulls off long enough to say in a low voice, “I want you to, Harry. I like it,” and then, before he dives back in, he adds, “Come in my mouth,” and Harry moans, as if almost undone by the very thought of it.

Louis wraps his hand around the base of Harry’s cock to control the depth of Harry’s thrusts, and somehow that seems to reassure Harry, whose movements become steadier, more sure. They rock together, Harry building up a gentle rhythm as Louis sucks and licks, focusing his attention on the sensitive flesh. Louis loves the taste, the feel, the sounds he’s drawing from Harry. Turns out Harry’s a talker during sex, his normal slow pace sped up as he speaks.

“Fuck, that’s so...oh my god, Lou, so good, so fucking good. Look so gorgeous, gotta let me do this for you, feels so fucking… oh my god, I’m gonna, you’re making me... I’m so close, Lou, fucking, I’m coming…” and with a loud groan that Louis’s pretty sure could be heard out in the Plaza outside, Harry comes in pulsing waves over Louis’s tongue.

Louis swallows, and then sitting back on his heels, wipes his mouth as Harry shakes and shudders, leaning on his arms on the counter as if he can barely stand.

 _I did that,_ Louis thinks smugly as he watches Harry come down. _I made him feel that._ He presses a hand to his own dick, hard in his loose athletic shorts, and runs a hand over Harry’s strong thigh.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, and turning, slides down the counter to sit next to Louis, bodies pressed together. Harry grabs Louis’s hand and raises it to his lips to press a kiss to his palm, and it’s so sweet and gentle, so full of promise somehow, that Louis has to take a deep breath. Harry sets his hand down and then rests his palm on Louis’s leg just where the shorts end.

“Well, that was fucking incredible,” Harry announces after a moment of contemplation and Louis snorts.

Harry’s hand starts to move, his fingers tracing delicate circles on Louis’s inner thigh, and Louis lets his legs fall open in invitation as Harry turns to him. Harry tugs Louis onto his lap so that Louis is straddling him, and then they’re kissing, deep and dirty, Harry’s tongue in Louis’s mouth, Louis’s hands in Harry’s hair. It’s good, it’s great, and Louis grinds down on Harry, stunned to feel that Harry’s cock is already starting to perk up.

Louis pulls back just enough to ask breathlessly, “Can you go again?”

Harry yanks him in for another kiss and then nods. “I, yeah. I think so. God, you’re amazing, Lou.”

They look at each other and then Harry smiles so sweetly and reaches up to trace the back of his hand down Louis’s jaw.

“I like you so much,” Harry says in a confessional tone and Louis grins.

“Well, I do give amazing head,” he says, preening a bit but Harry shakes his head.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, you do. That was incredible, I don’t think I’ve ever… But no, it’s more than that for me. So much more. I just, Louis. You’re lovely. You’re so funny, so smart, there’s just _so much_ to you, and I want it, Lou, every single bit.”

 _Whatever the opposite of heartbreak is,_ Louis thinks, _it’s this feeling, right here._ He looks at Harry, really looks at him, hopes that everything he’s feeling is written on his face as he leans in to kiss Harry.

“Me too,” he whispers, shaking a bit with how important this feels, how safe and cherished and _seen_ he feels, and he hopes Harry feels it too. “Me too, baby,” and Harry shudders at the endearment.

Harry’s hands slide down Louis’s bare back to cover the slick fabric of his shorts stretched across his bum and Louis sinks back onto them, chasing the sensation as Harry squeezes and then presses in a bit.

“What can I do for you?” Harry whispers, and presses again, intent clear, “What do you want?”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, “I don’t care. What do you want to do?”

Harry’s hands still for a moment as he just looks at Louis and then the words come tumbling out, “I want to eat your ass.”

Louis stares at him, and can see Harry flushing in the dim light of the store.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, “I know, it’s a lot, it’s too soon, I…”

Whatever else he’s saying is lost as Louis surges into him and kisses him until they’re both breathless.

“You can,” Louis whispers, shaking at the anticipated intimacy, “You can, Harry. I want you to.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry says, “It’s just… do you remember the day we met?”

“Couldn’t forget it,” Louis says with a laugh.

Harry snorts. “It’s just, before that, the first time I saw you, you were sort of leaning over the table talking to Marta and,” he sounds a bit sheepish, “Your ass was just right there and I kind of lost my mind, because it’s a really good ass.”

“It is,” Louis agrees, because he’s never been one for false modesty, not to mention all the time he’s put into it, it’s nice to have his hard work appreciated.

“Then I dumped water all over you, and you didn’t make fun of me, didn’t laugh at me, you were just so fucking _kind,_ Louis, and I was so embarrassed and you made it all okay, and that was when I started to fall.”

Touched, all Louis can do is kiss him.

“Then I got to know you,” Harry continues, “And I felt bad at first because you’re so hot and I couldn’t stop jerking off over your ass, but then I got to know you, and you’re so great, and then I realized…” he pauses, sounding uncertain.

“What?” Louis prompts, having an idea of where Harry is going.

“I realized that every time I looked at you, you were looking back at me. I wasn’t wrong, was I?” Harry looks anxious.

“Harry, fuck, no,” Louis kisses him again, thinks maybe he’ll just never stop kissing Harry. “You weren’t wrong, I was just… gone for you, the moment you dumped that ice water on me. You weren’t wrong, Harry,” and remembering the story Harry had told him, he says it again, firmly. “Harry, you’re not wrong, I want you, everything about you,” and then they’re kissing again.

“So,” Harry says, after several long moments of this, breathless kisses and soft moans, “Can I? I mean, I just want to make you feel so good…” his voice trails off and then he whispers, “baby,” and Louis shudders.

“Fuck, yeah, _yes_ ,” he says and scrambles off of Harry’s lap.

He grabs a couple of towels from the display pile and makes a mental note to add them to his account. He lays them out and then turns to Harry, hands on his hips and grins, raising his eyebrows as he says, “How do you want me, big guy,” and Harry laughs.

“Like this,” Harry says, and yanks Louis’s shorts down.

Louis kicks them to the side and Harry pushes him down onto the towels on his belly, maneuvers him so he’s on his hands and knees, ass up in the air. Louis rests his cheek on arms, marveling at how easy and comfortable this feels. He jolts and shrieks when Harry, having grabbed another of the wipes from the packet on the counter, gives him a quick wipedown.

“Whoops, sorry,” Harry says, and Louis snorts.

“Maybe warn a guy?”

“Next time,” Harry’s voice is low and dark and when Louis turns his head, he sees Harry kneeling behind him, gaze fixed on Louis’s body.

Harry starts slow, runs his hands over the thick muscles of Louis’s glutes and down to squeeze at his hamstrings. He leans down, presses kisses to the dimples at the bottom of Louis’s spine. His breath is hot and damp on Louis’s back, and Louis wonders if it’s actually possible to die of anticipation.

“Harry,” he groans, shocked at how broken his voice sounds, how _needy,_ “Fuck, Harry just…” and he gasps as Harry’s tongue swipes over the delicate skin he finds there.

Louis loses all sense of time for a while, goes somewhere else. He’s completely in this moment, here in the heat and the dark, with Harry’s tongue working him over, working into him. He’s shaking, Harry’s heavy hands on his hips hold him steady, hold him down, and he thinks if Harry weren’t holding on, he’d fall off the face of the earth.

Louis has no idea how long it’s been when Harry lifts his head and says, “I’ve been waiting for this forever, Louis, my whole life.”

“You’ve only,” Louis gasps, hips sinking back as Harry licks, “You’ve only known me a few weeks.”

“Forever,” Harry insists and spreads Louis open to get his face in deeper.

They’re both groaning loudly now, and Louis can feel it building, somewhere deep inside of him, it’s building, and he’s losing it, crying out, shoving back against the incredible sensation as Harry fucks him with his tongue. Finally, Louis can’t take it any longer, and snakes his hand down between his legs, grabs his aching dick, and all it takes is a tug, one then two, and he’s coming, hard, all over the soft towel and his own knees. Harry fucks him through it, then Louis is vaguely aware of Harry straightening up, frantically pulling himself off and coming all over Louis' back.

Louis collapses onto his belly, dazed and breathless, his whole body vibrating with the last of the sparks as he comes down, Harry gently petting his back as his breathing evens out. He flops over onto his back, grimacing at the mess, heedless of the dusty floor, and stares at the ceiling.

“Fuck,” he says finally, “Jesus Christ, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, sounding just as smug as Louis had earlier, and Louis grins, pulling Harry in for a cuddle.

“Well, now we’re both sweaty and gross,” Harry comments and Louis shrugs.

Plucking at the sleeve of the crop top Harry’s still wearing, Louis says, “I know where there’s more of these.”

Harry snorts and says, “I love this shirt, for real.”

Louis turns his head, meets Harry’s eyes and for a long moment, they just look at each other, and everything Louis is feeling is reflected back to him on Harry’s face.

“Come on,” Harry says, making no attempt to move, “We should clean up and get going. I don’t think we want Marta interrupting this, do we?”

Louis snickers at the thought. “No, not really.”

It should feel awkward, Louis muses, as they stand up and Louis wipes them down with the dirty towel. It should feel awkward as they gather up their scattered clothing and Harry chatters about how he’s going to get the cherry red slushie stains out of their outfits. It should feel awkward as they get themselves clothed enough to walk home without being arrested for indecent exposure, when they reach the point where Harry should leave and keep walking to his own apartment, but doesn’t, just follows Louis home, and into the shower and then into bed, where they curl into each other with the ease of long-term lovers.

It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t, and as Louis drifts off to sleep, curled around Harry, listening to his soft breathing, all it feels is right, and whole, and comfortable. All it feels is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader, I hope that you enjoyed this, and have had a chance to check out the other fic in this collection as well!
> 
> Feel free to [come say hi on Tumblr!](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/) The rest of my writing can be [found here!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/works)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please please leave a kudos, or even better, a comment! 
> 
> Go and see the [INCREDIBLE ART](http://nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com/post/175957174446/twopoppies-all-i-want-is-everything-by-phdmama) that the amazing Gina/twopoppies made for this - it's really the inspiration for the fic!! Please reblog if you like it!!
> 
> This is for Gina, who requested "face fucking and a bit of rimming."


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